


The Wrong Lady

by morticiamom, shiplizard



Category: Hornblower (TV), Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: F/M, Fusion, PTSD, Regency Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-05
Updated: 2013-06-05
Packaged: 2017-12-14 00:55:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/830832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morticiamom/pseuds/morticiamom, https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiplizard/pseuds/shiplizard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Hornblower (TV series)/Pride and Prejudice; Major Lord Edrington/Georgiana Darcy; he wanted to get married to satisfy his mother, he hadn't planned on anything as inconvenient as falling in love.</i> </p><p>Edrington is deployed by his mother to court the eligible Anne de Bourgh and finds himself arriving somewhere else entirely. </p><p>For sixbeforelunch on Dreamwidth</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wrong Lady

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sixbeforelunch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixbeforelunch/gifts).



> Betaed by the splendid Binz

Lady Edrington had never been accused in her life of sharing the adventurous spirit that had taken her late husband and her only son to war. It was not like her to leave her large estate and her small circle of cronies, even in the pursuit of her fondest goal, which was grandchildren (and, necessarily, a daughter-in-law to bear them). 

But scandal tips the scales of fashion, from time to time, and word had come ear-to-mouth all the way to _____shire; _Lady de Bourgh is removed from Rosings_. The reason why had been lost between one mouth and another ear; there were rumors of a jilting, a broken engagement of the young Miss de Bourgh's, a dozen other equally improbable strains of gossip. 

Shrewder listeners may know more of the affair, but never mind-- what was certain was that Miss de Bourgh, a standard of the highest breeding and fortune, was in London and looking for a husband. 

This news shook Lady Edrington to action, and, following the example of her peer, she left her country seat and removed to London for the first time since her son had been born. That young man, of course, she summoned immediately to her side. Luck was with her and he was returned recently from action in France, and not expected go abroad again. He could be spared to her. 

She did not know what had occurred in France; she would not, perhaps, have understood. And her son would not have tried to make her understand; he loved her, still, dutifully and awkwardly, and preferred to tell no-one that while every night he went to sleep in London, every morning he woke-- only for a moment-- in Muzillac, body tense, ears straining for the report of a cannon, or, on worse nights, the hiss and thunk of the deadly guillotine. 

 

~~~~~~

 

Edrington smiled to himself as he knocked at the door of his mother’s hired lodgings in Brook Street. He smiled because he couldn’t help thinking of the visit as anything but reporting to a commanding officer, and of his newly acquired and fashionable civilian dress as anything but a different sort of uniform. The smile still quirked his lips as the door was opened by the chief butler himself, a retainer who’d been with the family man and boy and for longer than Edrington could remember. 

“Good morning, my lord.” The man bowed as he welcomed him in, but there was the warmth of familiarity in his expression, well concealed.

“Good morning, Talbot.” Edrington relinquished his hat, and gloves into the man’s outstretched hand. 

“Glad to see you again. How are you? And how is my lady mother?”

“Well, sir, very well. Thank you. Her ladyship is also in excellent health.” 

“Happy to hear it.” Though not surprised; his mother was only ill when there were invitations to be avoided, such as those from people with low connections. At all other times sickness was inconvenient and she refused it outright. 

Talbot led the way to a garden at the back of the mansion-- an extravagance in the city, but then he supposed his mother had made enough concessions to London already. The dowager countess Edrington sat there amidst the blooms, straight and steady on a divan that had been carried out from one of the sitting rooms. Her indomitable parasol stood furled and upright before her, its tip in the gravel of the path, her thin but steely hands folded over the handle. He bowed neatly, though not without a smile. 

“Good morning, your ladyship. Major James Edrington reporting as ordered.” 

“Oh, nonsense, Jamie, come give your mama a kiss.” _Domestic drill and ceremonies, the Kiss of greeting,_ he thought to himself as he approached to the requisite distance, and bowed to bestow a filial bus upon the maternal cheek before seating himself beside her. She laid the parasol aside, and took up an envelope that was laying beside her, handing it to him. “Lady Catherine de Bourgh is holding a dinner on Wednesday next, a debut of sorts for Miss de Bourgh. Here is your invitation. You will, of course, attend. She would be an excellent match, and we neither of us are getting any younger.” And ah, the marching orders were not delayed after the presentation of the kiss of greeting. It was all to the letter and as neat as formation. Though, of course, as the lady said, it was nonsense to consider this a new battleground. 

“Of course, Mama,” he agreed, with as sunny a smile as was ever bestowed upon a superior officer. 

 

~~~~~~

 

The night of the dinner proved an educational one for Edrington; he arrived promptly, and ranking as he did among the company, was seated near the head of table, with a host of other young men eyeing him and envying him his seat opposite the young Miss de Bourgh. 

And how enviable it was, he thought grimly; Miss de Bourgh was artless, nervous, vacuous, and nearly mute, her character as small and underfed as her person. Her mother, as if to compensate this defect, held forth at on a variety of subjects; London, its weather; London, its citizenry; London, the failings of its weather and citizenry; and her favorite topic, the house at Rosings Park. Not an hour had gone by until Edrington felt like he knew that place to its last brick, and the cost of that brick as well. 

He had a friend, at least, in the Lady’s nephew-- none other than Colonel Fitzwilliam of the --th, seated not far from him. Not only her nephew, he discovered with some amusement, but her ‘dearest’ nephew, unlike another nephew who had recently displeased her. 

Edrington knew him better as an officer than a nephew, and made a brief attempt to discuss the situation in France-- this was stifled and guided back to more interesting matters by their hostess, and Edrington smiled politely and expressed all admiration befitting the fireplace in the larger drawing room of Rosings, the stone of which had been imported. 

He saw Colonel Fitzwilliam’s eyes flicker wistfully to the middle of the table, past a herd of hopeful baronets and knights, where a dour gentleman was very nearly smiling as the dark-haired lady next to him related her mingled successes at bettering herself as a musician: 

“-- and one makes enough progress to consider oneself quite accomplished, only to come back the next day and stare at the keys trying to remember which one is middle C,” she was saying, lively and mirthful, to the chuckles of her audience. The topic held little interest to him, but the speaker’s interest in it enlivened it, and he let his attention be drawn.

The slim young woman who sat by her objected: “But Elizabeth, I find your playing quite lovely, I think you must be much better than you say.” 

“You’re far more loyal than I deserve, dear,” the dark-haired one chuckled. “But I’ll need a good deal more practice before I can match your accomplishments.” 

Edrington glanced at the Colonel and shared a moment of sympathy, because he too would rather have been sat next to a sparkling young woman bemoaning the piano than hear another word about Italian marble, precedence be damned. 

“Anne is learning to play the pianoforte,” Lady Catherine announced rather sharply, and Edrington turned back to her with every seeming of interest, “though she will not say so. She knows I think it abominably rude to boast.” And that was an abominably rude statement directed at the lively dark-haired woman who’d not been boasting at all, but sharing an amusing, self-deprecating anecdote. Edrington could see that it was dangerous to enjoy anyone else’s conversation-- and could save her further unpleasantry only by paying her no further attention. 

“Of course,” he demurred, and focused his attention once again on hostess and daughter. 

"I am told, Lord Edrington, that you are in the army," the lady said, focusing a suspicious look on him. 

It was on the very tip of his tongue to ask her which had been the greater indication; his red uniform or having been introduced as Lord Major, but he ruled himself. 

"My nephew, Colonel Fitzwilliam there, is in the army."

He couldn't restrain himself. "A colonel? And in the army as well? My word." 

"Indeed," Lady Catherine declared. Beside her, her daughter frowned as if knowing that Edrington had not been entirely sincere but unable to catch his full meaning. “I think the army an appropriate diversion for young men. It is by far the most desirable of such positions, to my mind. The Navy is altogether not a place for gentlemen. I was in company with Sir Walter Elliot, the winter before, and he made the most astute remark about the undue distinction that common men can be raised to in the Navy.” 

“Very true, ma’am,” Edrington said. “But do not trouble yourself-- for I have long made it a practice that, when a ship full of men and officers are to convey my own men across hard seas to foreign shores, sailing against enemy cannon at the risk of their own lives, offering up life and limb for my safe return to England, I make very certain to check the pedigrees of each man. Moreover, I test each officer on his education, his correct opinions, and his horsemanship.” 

That made him smile: he had few fond memories of his recent journey to the continent, but the one that came to mind-- of a hawk-faced young lieutenant trying to mount a horse with some terror-- provided some amusement and defrayed his temper. 

“As well you should, and more men in your position should take such pains,” Lady Catherine declared, and Edrington risked a glance down the table. A disheartening number of suitors were nodding in agreement, either out of ignorance or the desire to please the lady, but Colonel Fitzwilliam had a suspicious set to his jaw as if he were trying not to smile, and the slim young lady named Georgiana looked half scandalized and half delighted. 

The dark-haired woman-- Elizabeth-- raised her voice. “And what do you do, my lord, if a naval ship should fail to meet your standards?” 

“Why, madam, we swim. It is not twenty-five miles from Dover to Calais, an easy journey for a man in good condition, and any additional forty or fifty pound afforded by weaponry and supplies only provides a bit of challenge to the exercise.” 

Georgiana’s eyes widened and she looked away, smiling rather despite herself; Elizabeth nodded sagely and said: “But of course.” 

A suspicious silence fell at the head of the table, and Edrington wondered if he had pushed his luck too far. 

Lady Catherine cleared her throat and changed the subject decisively to her sojourn to Bath the previous winter, and there the discussion stayed until the end of dinner. Anne frowned at Edrington the entire time and said little. 

 

~~~~~~

 

After dinner, as the ladies adjourned, Edrington took a moment to stretch his legs and walk the width of the large dining room, considering what intelligence he’d gathered. Anne, as a prospective wife, had the advantages of breeding and silence, and the disadvantage of everything else. He was certain that he had managed to offend her, assumed her a little too ignorant and spoken too freely. 

Not a successful action. It could be recovered from, but should it? While the blood was good, the company was bad, and being forced to be Lady Catherine’s son in law would be a cruelty to both of them. 

He was contemplating this when he was greeted and his hand seized by Colonel Fitzwilliam. 

"James, how splendid to see you. Talk sense, man, I beg you. For five minutes, before Mister Collins finds me," the Colonel said with a laugh. “He couldn’t speak to me through dinner but now he’ll come find me and try to make up for his Lady patroness’s absence. You must monopolize me, man. Be a tyrant.” 

"A pleasure, Richard, good evening, who the devil is Mister Collins?" Edrington answered in a spate of formalities no less understandable than the Colonel's greeting. 

“My aunt’s curate, from the parsonage in Rosings.” The Colonel gestured at his shoulder at a too-agreeable gentleman hanging at the edge of a conversation and nodding too much-- Edrington recalled him. He’d been seated near the end of the table at dinner, and always talking, though too far away to hear. 

“She brought her curate to London with her? How extraordinary.” 

Colonel Fitzwilliam nodded. “He and his wife are meant to be chaperoning Anne-- but more, I think, she doesn’t trust London to provide her with the correct amount of attention. He’s very reliable for that, providing her attention.”

“A toady, then.” 

“Of the highest quality-- a jewel. He’s an amazing man, Major. He has to be seen to be believed, but once seen is often enough, and I’ve put up with his company for two months this year already.” 

"Well, I'll endeavor to spare you," Edrington replied, "Although I may not be very easily be persuaded not to tell your men that I've seen you turn pale with relief upon escaping the clutches of an enemy no less dangerous than your aunt and a curate."

"I defy them every one to meet my aunt and her curate and not retreat on the spot," the Colonel answered gamely. "And I hope you're not here to ask after Anne's hand, James. You're a good man and I should hate to see you run aground at the jaws of Aunt Catherine."

"I'm sorry to tell you the news, then, but Lady Edrington was insistent."

“There may be nothing for it, then,” the Colonel said good naturedly. “How did you find the dinner?"

“The food was good; the conversation was certainly informative. The Lady isn’t musical, I see, but has decided military opinions.”

“Hah! But I have to warn you. If you do mean to get my aunt’s approval, you’ll have to do a good deal less agreeing with Mrs. Darcy than you have tonight. Respect is due to her as befits a lady of the family, but only just enough.” 

“You have a cousin from that family, don’t you? Is the objectionable Mrs. Darcy from that line?” 

“My word, you don’t know!” The Colonel looked startled. “It was the talk of London not a year and a half ago. I didn’t think anyone was unaware.” 

Edrington’s mouth drew into a thin, sour line. “I have been away from London for some time, and I’m afraid the news of the highest societies is not delivered to France.” 

“And you’re only back a few months, I recall the 95th Foot was sent over. How are the Frogs conducting themselves these days?” 

"At war," Edrington said crispy. "Against poverty, mismanagement, and their own people, when I last laid eyes on them." 

"Ah." There was some measure of understanding between two men of the royal army, and the colonel pursued no further questions of war. "Then it’s to me to explain the situation. See over there, that is my cousin Fitzwilliam Darcy, who I mentioned once or twice when we were on the peninsula .” 

The man in question was in a small group by the fire, listening a great deal and saying very little. He was good-featured, but stern and a bit dour, which fitted with what Edrington had been told. 

“He’d be more social if Bingley was around to force him into it, but Charles is off in the country for a few weeks at least and Darcy is bearing up under Aunt Catherine’s censure alone. He used to be her favorite, you know, until he married.” 

“In particular married the undesirable Mrs. Darcy?” 

“Anyone but Anne would have been undesirable for my aunt. But Elizabeth the moreso, for the twin sins of having an uncle in trade, and for being insufficiently impressed with Aunt Catherine. It was a scandal, I assure you. Entirely unforgivable. But my aunt has finally accepted that what is done can’t be undone, and is out for new a son-in-law with all due speed. Elizabeth having stolen Anne’s rightful mate, you see, Aunt Catherine has decided that Elizabeth will help find her a better one-- and Anne has nobody else familiar with London and a wider society to introduce her about.” 

“If I were Mrs. Darcy, I might refuse,” Edrington noted. 

“Refuse? Not at all, she offered her assistance. Out of friendship and charity, God bless her for it.” 

At Edrington’s questioning look, the Colonel went on:

“Aunt Catherine would have been as happy to stay at Rosings indefinitely, without stirring either Anne or herself. I had never been considered for a match before. It was always to be Anne and Darcy. But once the shock of Darcy’s match had died down, she came to remember she had another nephew... and how I would have escaped if my cousin and his wife hadn’t convinced her to bring Anne to London instead I don’t know.” 

“You make quite the case for your young cousin as a wife,” Edrington said. “I might say you’re still trying to discourage me.” 

“Not as much as I might be. She’s improved immeasurably given friends and acquaintances outside of that estate-- has been forced to exert her mind, to apply herself. With Elizabeth and Georgiana’s influence she is a much less insipid young woman than I ever knew her.” 

Edrington found himself unable to imagine the initial state of Anne de Bourgh, if the sullen woman he had met tonight was an improvement.

“You haven’t made any of this easy, Colonel. I’m to gain the approval of your aunt, who is beginning to suspect I don’t respect her. I’m to gain the approval of Mrs. Darcy, who your aunt does not want me to talk with, and having surmounted that I must win the affection of a woman who likes me very little. To whom do I ingratiate myself first?” 

"Ingratiate yourself? Not to Elizabeth, she won't have it. But she likes you already, don’t worry. It’s only Aunt Catherine you have to impress. Oh God's teeth Collins is on his way, let me go introduce you to Darcy, even he's not enough of a fool to bother Darcy in a temper. Usually."

 

~~~~~~

 

Later in the evening, the card tables were brought out, and most sat down to play-- her ladyship all but demanded it. Edrington felt it in his power to resist her, however, and joined a group by the piano. Lady Catherine was willing to accept it, as long as those not playing cards were admiring Anne, who was playing the instrument. 

She was competent but not accomplished, choosing simpler pieces and concentrating as if a wrong note would do her an injury, but she had the lively wit of Mrs. Darcy to jolly her through uncertain passages, and a devoted page-turner in the young Miss Georgiana-- who cut a striking figure, standing by the piano. He had not expected her to be quite so tall, though he had known from dinner that she would be lovely. 

When Anne de Bourgh rested between pieces, Edrington attempted to make conversation with her twice-- she answered both sallies with a mumble and an averted gaze that spoke more of discomfort than bashful attraction. Georgiana took it on herself to be brave on her peer’s behalf, and soon Edrington found himself carrying on a pleasant conversation about Anne’s accomplishments and time in London, by proxy. 

He barely noticed when Anne retired from the piano and offered it to another player, absorbed as he was with Miss Darcy, and only recollected himself when he saw Anne drawing Mrs. Darcy into a corner to speak nervously with her. 

“She still lacks for energy sometimes,” Georgiana said, following his gaze. “She is not used to being in so much company. I was very shy at first, too, because I had been so used to being at home with my governess. She does not mean to be rude.” 

“She could be a great deal worse, given her example,” Edrington said, too bluntly by half. The lady cleared her throat. 

“You were very spirited in your defense of the Navy. Do you have family in that service?” 

Now he was surprised-- at her frankness, at her refusal to cleave to the polite fiction that he had been at all sincere. She didn’t appear scandalized, and indeed must have been habituated to a little rogueishness by her sister-in-law. “I do not have family in the Navy, madam, but those I consider close friends, and who have saved my life.” 

“Is it really so bad as they say? I have not met many sailors. Colonel Fitzwilliam and my brother both consider them inappropriate company.” 

“They are a singular breed,” Edrington observed, “as a man must be to be willing to shut himself up in a wooden vessel with several hundred other men and leave the sight of land for months at a time. And it is true that once back on shore they seem to lose the knack of society. And their legs, for a time. But the same holds true for any man of the infantry put aboard a ship-- I could hardly stand up straight my first week at sea, for the rocking of the ship, and it was I who felt like a foreigner trying to decipher ‘helm alee’’ and ‘muster at six bells’. And braver men you will not find, to the last. When once I and my men needed to leave France with a great deal of haste, and the ship to carry us was becalmed, the Captain himself-- a knight of the realm, mind you-- put oar to water to save his crew and my regiment.” 

“You had a ship with a good pedigree, then, like you told Aunt Catherine,” Georgiana observed, hesitantly teasing. 

“If I really cared about manners or horsemanship, I would still be swimming,” he said with a laugh. “The young lieutenant sent inland with us-- if you had seen him try to mount a horse as if he thought it was about to turn around and bite him. And if someone had been trying to scrabble onto my back that way, I might have bitten him myself!” 

“Oh no--” the lady cried, trying not to laugh at this. “No that is not kind.”

“I heard him cry out more than once that what the animal needed was a rudder, bless his soul!”

At this, Miss Darcy was forced to hide her face for a moment. 

“But he was a good sort of man?” 

“Madam, he was the best, with a sense of honor that could not have been more sincere or bravely expressed were he a duke instead of a doctor’s son. And though I might twit him from time to time as a soldier must a sailor, I will not hear him or men like him spoken of so meanly by those who have not fought beside them.”

This speech was not calculated to please, but the lady surprised him by smiling warmly at him. From that point on, her shy speech became less so. She engaged him with interest in the places he had traveled, his experience on the Peninsula, and his acquaintances in London. 

Their tête-à-tête was broken up by Mrs. Darcy-- she invited them both to the whist table, smiling. Mr. Darcy was watching them as well, Edrington noted, and not smiling. He had kept the lady occupied for-- God’s wounds, it was an hour now-- and the man must think Edrington was making love to her shamelessly.

“Naturally, madam,” he said, accepting the invitation with more sincerity than he could have mustered for one of Lady Catherine’s. He turned the conversation immediately to the married couple, intensely curious, after the Colonel’s report, to see how they had met. 

Mrs. Darcy laughed, and Mr. Darcy looked sullen until she smiled at him. 

“There is some humor in the story,” the gentleman allowed, “but mostly at my expense.” 

“Oh, not all of it. I had my share,” his wife assured him. “So we must make it more flattering to both of us.” 

Mrs. Darcy told the thing very nicely after all, though as quickly as she brushed past it in conversation, the idea of a man snubbing a woman outright at a dance was notable, and Edrington thought he detected a whiff of the aunt’s influence there. Not so much of an influence that he had rejected the match, though, which was something. 

Under her brother’s watchful eye, Georgiana spoke less than she had, retreating to her first shyness. Edrington did what he could to assure her he was not offended. Mrs. Darcy bridged the gap now, and kept the conversation on its feet. 

She was taking his measure, he knew it-- and he had meant to approach her as the gatekeeper of one young Miss de Bourgh’s affections in any case. But he found that he had been detoured, that all the charm he’d prepared had gone towards the wrong lady entirely. 

 

~~~~~~

 

“You speak a great deal of Miss Georgiana Darcy,” Lady Edrington observed the following day, as Edrington was delivering a dutiful report. “And very little of the young lady in whose honor you were to be attending.” 

“I was able to obtain a good deal more intelligence of the one than the other.” 

“Jamie, I am astonished at you, talking as if this were some campaign of war! Now, tell me how it progressed.” 

“It didn’t progress at all, madam. Every attempt at conversation with the lady met with resistance. It was as if I were shooting cannon with only the wadding. I brought up her playing, and was turned aside with a monosyllable, although Miss Darcy was pleased to speak on her friend’s behalf and make the most of the praise she’d earned from her teacher. I asked of her experiences in London, and the lady might as well have been brought to the dinner in a trunk for all she’d acknowledge seeing or hearing.” 

“Perhaps the young lady was intimidated and very wisely not showing favor when she wasn’t sure of her mother’s approval,” the dowager observed.

“Her mother’s approval is easy to win. Lady de Bourgh is a woman of more opinion than intelligence, and if one is willing to disregard self-respect and propriety to agree with such opinions then the Lady is pleased. If one is willing to toady and flatter, the Lady is won. But she demands the respect of rank and title without demonstrating any virtue that deserves it. She is inappropriate, and unkind, and you would find her entirely tiresome.” 

His mother considered that. She knew her son not to be unduly headstrong or given to fits of stubbornness, and had witnessed him bear up under truly intolerable specimens of the peerage-- this report she could not dismiss. 

“You are certain in your judgement?”

“As certain as Lady Catherine is in all of her pronouncements, but I hope, with a greater adherence to the facts of the case.” 

“And what is your measure of this Miss Darcy?” 

“She has a lovely face, a tall, womanly figure, and is of good fortune. She’s accomplished, but modest, clever, but kind, well bred, but gracious.” 

“If all those things are true, and I shall make inquiries of my own, she will do, I suppose, if Anne de Bourgh is unobtainable, but really Jamie, her mother should be glad to secure an Earl for a son-in-law.”

“And the opinions of the young lady herself, and the earl in question are the merest trifles, I quite understand.” 

“Where have you been to absorb such facile sentimentality? It stands to reason that happiness is best secured by prudent and proper actions.”

Edrington merely nodded, having, but not venturing, his own opinion on the subject. His mother had a healthy respect for rank, but she was also neither foolish nor easily impressed, and he felt that once she had learned more of Lady de Bourgh she would share his objections. 

 

~~~~~~

 

The evening of the same day, a similar conversation took place between Mister and Mrs. Darcy-- this time with James Edrington as its subject. And upon that subject, Mister Darcy was firm.

"I don't like the man."

"I think you found him sufficiently agreeable until he turned Georgiana's head," his wife replied shrewdly, taking the pins from her hair one by one.

"There is a marked difference between a man that is good enough for an evening's polite company-- you may stop laughing, I was perfectly genial."

"You were nothing like it. You were rude to everyone and you scowled through four courses," Elizabeth said smiling. She knew very well how to keep the sting out of such rebukes, however, and she stood up with her hair falling around her shoulders and reached out to catch her husband's hand as he paced the bedroom. He was forced to turn and look at her directly, and see that she was not mocking him.

"It's not to the point," he said, scowling even then. “He came to pay his respects to my cousin, and should restrict his attentions to Anne.” 

“He should not,” Elizabeth countered. “Anne does not want him.” 

“Anne will want whoever she is told to want by her mother,” Darcy predicted. “And he is an Earl, no matter how sharp his wit, and Lady Catherine will have him if she can get him.” 

“Anne told me in the drawing room this evening that she did not like him. He speaks too fast and she doesn’t always know what he means; she does not like his company and will dare her mother’s disapproval to say so.” Elizabeth shook her head and gripped his hands harder. “I do not have the warmth of affection for Anne that I do for Georgiana, but she does not want to marry a man who makes her feel stupid, and I will do everything in my power to see that she has that choice.” 

“The match would be sensible.” 

“It would be disastrous. Dearest husband-- the both of us have seen the consequences when one dull person marries a clever one, because she is handsome or wealthy, because he is convenient or well-bred.” She did not say ‘the Collinses’, or ‘my parents’, but Darcy knew that she alluded to both. “He is not a match for Anne. But Georgiana does like him.” 

“And I do not.” 

"No! No indeed, You will never find a suitor good enough for Georgiana," she said gently. "And you'll dislike any man the moment she shows an interest in him. Since every man who approaches her will be equally unwelcome, let this one court her if he is going to court her! He will not wrong her in any material way; I will watch out for it. And besides, the Colonel vouches for him. You know me well enough to know that I care very little for rank when two people are sympathetic. I wouldn't be any more inclined to think highly of him if he were a duke and a general both, but the Colonel's good opinion I value."

"You approve of this Lord Major!" Darcy said, quite betrayed.

"I do nothing of the sort." Elizabeth's gaze softened, because she was quite as protective of her sister-in-law as her husband was. "I've met him once over cards, and I hope I have learned not to form a certain judgment on such a short acquaintance. But I am willing to leave it to Georgiana to take his measure."

"How can she?" he fretted, "when she is so willing to believe the best in everyone?"

"There are limits to forgiveness, even for hearts as kind as hers. And when a woman has been endangered, as she was put in danger-- believe me, she knows what caution is."

Elizabeth knew Georgiana better than many of her circle, and knew all too well the form of flattery that had once led her astray. What others saw as becoming shyness, Elizabeth recognized as discernment, painfully won. It was something that a brother or a father could never understand, predisposed as they were to see only innocence in their wards. She grasped both of her husband's hands tightly: "Let her judge and see if he meets her standards. I'll watch over her. Trust my lack of charity, if you cannot trust her judgment?"

Darcy said nothing, unwilling to agree to any lack of charity on the part of a woman who had once forgiven his own trespasses, unable to deny the wisdom in what she said. He did, at least, let her clasp him to her chest and draw him away from his worrying.

 

~~~~~~

 

Edrington, though unsure of whether the objective to be won was worth the campaign, was yet a dutiful son and a thorough campaigner. He resolved not to neglect Miss de Bourgh when they met in town-- as they must. He found himself in company with the young women often, more or less intentionally on several occasions: the obligatory assemblies at Almack’s, rambles through Kensington Gardens, and Vauxhall, musical mornings, and evening dinner parties. Each time he tried and each time Anne was not to be drawn out -- unless perhaps Edrington was willing to sacrifice his integrity or intelligence on the altar of agreeableness, which he was not. Georgiana, on the other hand, was both delightful, somehow not only discerning in observation, but kindly in outlook, and able despite her shyness to be delighted, often with some of his most slyly pointed pleasantries.

He began to genuinely look forward to Miss Darcy’s company, and to be pleased rather than resigned when he came on a party that included her and her sullen cousin. He discovered with pleasure that she was liberal in her friends and acquaintances, as willing to be on good terms with the Collinses (or at least the sensible Mrs. Collins) and her sister-in-law’s family in Gracechurch Street, as she was with the gentlemen and ladies of her brother’s acquaintance, valuing sense and wit over title. 

It was not a fortnight before he was certain that she was a more reasonable choice-- a really advantageous choice for an officer’s wife, and with a family who could support her feelings when he was called overseas. It was another month together before he felt certain he could make his case to his mother-- happily, she had by this time met Lady Catherine de Bourgh at Somerset House. An afternoon of Lady Catherine’s company and opinions had cooled her zeal for a match between great families quite effectively, and softened her to the idea of a good family without title.

“If you think it so wise you’d better marry her,” she told him frankly, when he had explained all to her. “And quickly, before I get too much older.” 

“Mama, you will outlive me,” he told her. “But you are right; I will put the matter to her, and see if she objects.” 

“Objects! To an Earl, and a gentleman” his mother scoffed. “And the finest young man in England.” 

“As you say,” he said, before she could extoll the virtues of her own ‘little Jamie’ and remember any two dozen embarrassing episodes of his childhood that she considered charming. 

“Have you offered to escort her to the display of fireworks at Vauxhall this evening? That is the sort of romantic setting that should put her at her ease.” 

“I have not-- but I’ll call on the family today,” he promised, and set out soon after breakfast to do exactly that. 

 

~~~~~~

 

The evening was pleasant, the air refreshingly cool, the conversation and laughter rippling about them with the breeze. A vague unease built within him, however, as the slow matches were lit to set off the rockets, and the smoke and smell of them wafted up and out. He was unsure why his pulse began to race and he found himself looking into the alleys here and there for something unnamed, but it didn’t matter. He was able to put it aside and enjoy instead the happy anticipation of his companion.

The hiss of the rocket fuses once lit was a harder thing to ignore-- he endeavored to keep smiling although his stomach had gone sour, but he felt it must be frozen, like the grin of a skull. The first rockets exploded in splendors of colorful sparks, and the smell of gunpowder filled the air, and the fuses hissed....

Mortar fire, he was certain of it, and who knew when the enemy would break cover?

“Lord Edrington?” Georgiana said, as he stopped in his track, releasing her arms to feel for a pistol he was not wearing, and where had he put his sword?

“You must get home, Georgiana,” he said- “You must leave the square, what are you thinking standing out in the clear like this?”

She looked around her, puzzled. “It is only Vauxhall.” 

“Madam, the republicans will be upon us any moment,” he told her urgently. “You must get clear of their fire, you must go home at once.” 

“My Lord!” she cried, and then, more resolutely. “James, think, nobody is firing on you. Look, there is Sir Thomas, and his family, and Lady Barbara. Everyone peaceful and safe.” 

The strange certainty of danger abandoned him and he realized clearly where he was-- still in London, the reek of powder from the fireworks and not from mortar or cannon. He stood rigid among a crowd, not a little bit foolish, and Georgiana was staring at him as if he were a man run mad. 

As well she might. 

“Very right, madam,” he said, face pale. “Please pardon me. I was only... I was only confused, for a moment.” 

He saw incomprehension in her eyes, sheer bewilderment.He was bewildered at himself. He had been affected by war before-- it was after the Peninsular campaign he had first woken from a dream and not known where he was, he felt unease in crowded streets from time to time, but that was all. He was not prone to hysteria or delusion. That it happened from time to time in other soldiers he was aware, and in the unfortunate Lieutenant Kennedy was the proof that the affliction did not restrict itself to the cowardly or unfit. But in him, and in front of Georgiana-!

It was gravely embarrassing, and he could still feel his pulse in his throat and ears, too quick and heavy for a man enjoying an evening in London. His skin crawled with the noise of the rockets.

Georgiana surprised him: she could not know where his mind had been, but she saw very well that he was in distress, and said quickly:

"Perhaps it is the fireworks? I do not like them either; I am not at all used to them, and they are so loud one cannot think. Could you walk me away from them, Major? I fear I may lose my bearings." 

"Of course," he said, and offered her his arm, turning them away from the spectacle and the smell of powder. 

It was not entirely out of charity that she had asked for his company-- the crowd had pressed in past decency, and he applied his elbow and shoulder judiciously to get them free of it, and when they emerged from the thicket of human bodies he looked down and saw her flushed and wide-eyed and a bit unnerved.

"Are you quite well, Miss Darcy?" 

"I am," she said bravely. He felt her small hand loosen its desperate grip on his arm where he had not felt it clench. 

"Then this action has been entirely successful," he said, and her laugh stirred softer feelings in his breast than the call to arms that had overwhelmed him earlier. 

They walked for a while, her soft grip and slim figure still force enough to let him keep his back to the explosions in the sky. She shyly began a report of the progress of Miss de Bourgh's musical tutoring and the inconsequential comings and goings of her friends, and a concerto she had recently attended. 

She watched his manner carefully, and when one topic or another drew a more lively response she settled on it more firmly, and by the time they had gained a little distance from the fireworks, he was as talkative as she was. 

“Thank you, madam,” he said, between one topic and the next.

“You are always quite welcome, Lord Edrington,” she assured him sincerely. He was relieved that she made no pretense that she did not understand; it was a relief to speak frankly. 

“It is difficult to say why I should dislike the smell of powder in London.” He trusted her good nature, and more, her understanding, entirely, and felt that he could at least offer her a little explanation. She had earned it: by acts of valor, he felt. “Only that the sound of cannon and the smell of powder ought to be left to the battlefield, and that a man’s conduct in London and his conduct on the field of battle should not mix. The circumstances-- the danger that even women and children may be in when a battle overtakes a town or a city--” 

“We are not in danger.” 

“No.” 

“But perhaps you thought for a moment that we were. I find-- I find that at times one can be reminded very sharply of unpleasant things and wish to remove the reminder. There is no discredit in that.” 

He turned to her and saw that she did not judge him, that there was sympathy and affection in her gaze, and a determined set to her shoulders as if she would see him safely away from the battlefield be it real or imagined. His gratitude rather overwhelmed him. However briefly, he had been near to raving, and her instinct, quick and true, had not been to escape him-- for which he would have borne her no ill will-- but to rescue him, save his pride and defend his dignity. 

It was more than should have been expected from her and it took him entirely aback. To find a woman he could utterly confide in was a gift he’d never expected. Any pretense of logic had to give way to this; he was besotted entirely, and had been for some time, and owed it to her not to pretend that only shrewd planning and good sense had led him to her tonight. 

“I had asked to talk to you tonight for a purpose, before we were diverted,” he said. “I wonder if we could speak to it now.” 

Her lips parted a little, and she nodded once, nervously. Her hand tightened again on his arm, and he laid his own on top of it. 

“I had meant to ask you if an offer of marriage would be welcome, should I seek your brother’s permission. I regarded it as highly practical; you are an intelligent, discreet woman, fit as others may not be for an officer’s wife, resourceful enough to be sometimes alone when I was overseas. You would gain the advantages of my rank and travel, would have the promise of being future mistress of Edrington. It seemed a very prudent match.”

She was quiet, not knowing how to respond. 

“When I come to it now, I find that prudence has very little to do with it,” he went on. “That far beyond the cold mathematics of a good social match you have become more integral to my future happiness than I have let myself imagine, and that I am entirely in love with you. And I must offer myself not as an Earl, now, and a Major in His Majesty’s Army, but as a man who is often sharp-tongued, and occasionally fancies himself on the battlefield when he is not, who may be called overseas at any time for months on end, and who thinks of what is practical before what is kind. And I present myself to you rather uncertain of your own future happiness should you accept.” 

“James,” she said, her eyes aglow-- her sweet smile had shown itself and only become more pronounced through his address. “I think you are teasing me, because you must know--you make me very happy. And I am safer with all your faults than I would the appearance of being blameless. I have been-- deceived before, by a man who valued my fortune too much to disagree with me. Your honesty is as dear to me as-- as you are,” she finished, looking a little surprised at her forwardness. 

Edrington took the news of this deceitful individual with only a little touch of murderous intent-- whoever the man was, he was now gone and Georgiana unharmed. 

“He was a damned fool. I cannot promise always to agree-- but honesty I can assure you of.” He breathed deeply. “You would approve, then, if I spoke to your brother tomorrow?” 

After all her bravery, her words now proved unequal to the task of expressing how much she would approve, how happy she would be to accept his hand after, but her smiles and bright eyes were perfectly eloquent.


End file.
